


More Than Just Allies

by Savvy_Angel



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Germany is easily embarrased, Hetalia, Hetalia Axis Powers - Freeform, M/M, Truth or dare game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 10:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10462419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savvy_Angel/pseuds/Savvy_Angel
Summary: Germany still remembers the day, when he and Italy agreed to be friends. Arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, simply enjoying the company."Uh...ve don't have to kiss...do ve?""Nope!" came the cheerful chirp, "Unless you want to."Unless you want to....





	

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Germany’s dialogue is written to mimic his accent. V’s take the place of W’s. Z’s take the place of th’s.’Jou’ replaces ‘you’. Japan’s dialogue is also written to mimic an accent. R’s take the place of L’s. The word ‘well’ is pronounced ‘werr’ and ‘world’ is pronounced ‘word’. Any differing languages will have translations next to them in parentheses.   
> Final note: This story is fluffy...I will include another author's note if I decide to write something different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will post the next chapter next chapter on Friday. I'll try to update my stuff about once a week. :)

    All was dark. The quiet nighttime air was peaceful and provided a sense of well being. Something very different for Germany. Snuggled under warm covers, into a soft pillow, blissfully drowsy and delightfully numb, it was very unpleasant and irritating when he was harshly woken by the annoying voices of his fellow countries and...Italy’s screams? Instantly awake, though still furious, Germany did up the top buttons on his night shirt (he wasn’t about to go downstairs with his shirt messily gaping open at the top), and marched downstairs. 

    The scene that met his eyes was chaos. People were crowded into his usually orderly and neat formal room. Food on the stove was burning and boiling over. Timers were beeping, people were arguing, shouting, laughing obnoxiously (namely Prussia, France, and Russia,) and...making out (also namely France and Prussia). Germany pursed his lips in concentration, looking for Italy...And found him running around and around the island in the center of the kitchen trying to escape a pissed off Romano and eventually running right into South Korea. Who would then- Germany’s eyes widened. 

“ZHAT’S ENOUGH! EVERYVONE VILL SHUT UP RIGHT NOW IF ZHEY VALUE ZHEIR LIVES!” 

    The room was now silent.

    Germany almost breathed a sigh of relief. His highly fine-tuned sense of OCD was almost unbearable when other people upset the strict balance of his world.

“Right. Now, vhat are jou all doing here? Japan, jou are responsible and orderly. Jou tell me vhat’s going on.”

“Werr, Word meeting is in your country this month.”

    Germany groaned. He had forgot, and now all these annoying idiots had intruded on the privacy of his home.

“Vell, first, let’s make accommodations for jou all. In zhe meantime, jou can not be in my house. Jou are velcome to tour my city, but if any of jou step outside of jour bounds, I vill personally kill jou. Also, no talking while jou are here, zhe sounds of jour voices are driving me crazy. Especially jours,” he said singling out America, England, and France.

    He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, where an ache was already forming. 

“Okay. Now vhen jou have places to stay, jou vill stay zhere, and not come bozther me. Understood?”

    Everyone nodded.

“Prussia, jou, of course, are velcome to stay at my house if jou like. As is Japan and...Italy.” 

    Germany was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

“Right. Now somevone, turn off zhe stove and timer, and open zhe windows. Zhe smell of burned pasta makes me sick.”

“The smell of-a burned-a pasta makes-a me sad,” Italy sniffed sadly.

“Just do it!” Germany shouted, galvanizing a traumatized Italian into action.

“Jou,” he announced, turning on South Korea with even more anger, “vill not touch Italy ever again. Or zhere vill be whatever undervorld you believe in to pay. Italy is my ally and my...f-friend. He is under my protection,” Germany finished, stumbling over the word “friend” due to how unfamiliar it was.

“Clear?”

    A chorus of da’s, oui’s, si’s, and yes’s were the only response. 

“Good. Italy, stop singing!” He shouted, rounding on the young cheerful man. 

“Okay-a,” Italy squeaked and began humming to himself instead.

     Germany rolled his eyes. That was probably the closest he would get to obedience from the childlike Italy. 

“Now. GO! Jou have your marching orders. GET TO!”

     Terrified and disgruntled countries murmured loudly to one another as they shuffled out the door. 

“ZAT IS NOT EFFECTIVE. Form a line, and MARCH!.”

     Orderly lines were quickly made and filed out. Germany grunted in exasperation. 

“Ridiculous,” he huffed, shaking his head. 

     Now he returned to the task of restoring balance to his home. 

“Italy! Why are jou making more pasta?”

“Well, I-a thought since the-a other-a pasta burned I would-a make new pasta-”

“Jou idiot! Clean up jour mess!” A flat-palmed hand smacked the upside of Italy’s head, provoking a loud cry.

“Aaaahhhh!”

“Ow-a, ow-a, ow-a,” he whined, letting out a small whimper.

     Germany rolled his eyes, and picked up a phone to make some calls. As he walked up the stairs and down the hall to his room, he felt a strange twinge in his chest. Almost like regret. But what did he have to regret? Yelling? No. Shouting? No. Threatening? No...Hitting Italy? No. Of course not. He hit people all the time. Italy wasn’t any different from anyone else...was he? 

_ “Vell, he is my friend...maybe zhat means I shouldn’t hit him…” _

     A little voice at the back of his mind jumped in, unwelcomed.

“Or is it that you want  _ something else _ from Italy? Maybe you want to be  _ more _ than just allies.”

“More zhan just allies? Zhat’s ridiculous. He is my friend. Nozthing else…” 

     A memory, unbidden, sprang to Germany’s mind.

“Friends, hmm, I like zhe sound of zhat….Yes. Zhis could vork!”

     Silence. 

     His arm, draped over Italy’s little shoulder. The warmth from the petite man’s body, cutting through the sleeve of his military jacket and making him feel hot all over. Suddenly, an uncomfortable question came to mind (though certainly  _ not  _ an unattractive idea).

“Um...Ve don’t have to kiss, do ve?”

“Nope,” came the adorably cheerful reply. “Unless you want to.”

    Those last four words echoed through his mind. Unless you want to. Unless you want to.  _ Unless _ you  _ want  _ to. Germany shuddered and shook his head to clear it, feeling his face grow warm. 

“Zhat is just stupid,” he murmured.

*****************************************************************************************

     Germany sighed and turned off his phone. It had taken the better part of his day to find places that would work for everyone. It wasn’t as simple as just calling a hotel. He had to be careful  _ where  _ he housed his fellow countries. Turkey and Greece had to have separate places to stay, Romano had to be as far from everyone as possible, no one wanted to be with Russia, and America, Britain, and Mexico had to housed away from everyone so they could bicker in peace. 

     The lesser part of Germany’s day had been spent avoiding and hiding. From Italy. He felt strangely remorseful for having hit him earlier, but was uncomfortable with the idea of apologizing. It wasn’t that he was cruel, Germany simply struggled when it came to social interactions. And when he couldn’t master something, he avoided it entirely. Looking up from the paperwork on his desk, he gazed out his window over Berlin. It had fallen dark once again, the winter months contributing to the shorter hours of daylight. He glanced at his clock. 5 p.m. Sighing again, Germany pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up onto his forehead and closed his eyes for a moment. His tired, thoughtless reverie was shattered by a knock on his closed door.

“Hallo?” he asked the empty space between him and the door.

     No response, except for a second knock. 

“Come in.”

     The door opened and Germany began to turn to meet the disturbance from his paperwork.

_ It’s probably Japan  coming to ask permission to use zhe bathroom and sauna. _

“Um, Ciao Germany. It’s-a time for-a dinner.”

     Mid-turn Germany froze and cringed. Just who he had hoped it wouldn’t be. 

“Uh,” Germany felt his face redden, “Thanks Italy. I vill be right down.”

“Okay,” the little nation chirped. He began to walk back towards the door and Germany almost sighed in relief. But he immediately tensed when Italy turned around and spoke again.

“Germany?” he paused and took a breath, “Are you alright , mio amico (my friend)?” The boy (he was so little, it was hard to think of his as anything else), reached out to touch Germany’s arm in an affectionate manner. 

     Germany jerked his arm away, unused to the intimate contact. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw hurt flash in Italy’s eyes, and inwardly pain struck his heart. He wasn’t trying to cause him pain. It was just a lot better for both of them if he and Germany didn’t get close. Ludvig suddenly felt very oafish and clumsy, as if he were a bear trying to handle a glass vase. Every move he made cracked the vase, or scratched it. He wasn’t trying to, it was gorgeous and delicate little vase. He just didn’t know what to do with it. 

“You seem to have something on your mind…” Italy trailed off, letting the sentence sit.

“Um...I’m fine. Now, go downstairs,” he said brusquely. 

“Oh. Ok,” Italy tried to smile, but the hurt on his face conflicted with it. He turned to leave and Germany made up his mind. 

“Vait!...Italy, vait,” Germany called, slightly breathless.

Italy turned, “Si? What is it-a?”

“Um…”Germany mumbled, “I am very sorry zhat I hit jou earlier today. And zhat I have yelled a lot.” Germany held his breath waiting for the answer.

Italy’s eyes widened, “Is-a this-a what’s been bothering-a you?”

     Germany nodded, blushing.

“Oh.” Italy chuckled “Silly-a Germany. We are-a friends. You don’t-a have to-a worry,” and with that he left, forsaking the red-faced blonde nation behind him. 

     Germany got even redder as he watched the receding Italian’s hips as they swayed from side to side while he walked out. What was he doing? Italy was his friend. And as little as he knew, Germany was still pretty sure that friends didn’t notice other friend's swishy-sway-ie  hips as they walked. Why was the Italian’s walk so attractive? Germany shook his head. 

“Shame on me. He’s jour ally Germany, zhat’s all. Now, go downstairs, and have a nice dinner vith jour...friends,” he thought for a moment, “And Spain and France.” 

     Somehow Gilbert had manage to convince him into letting his idiotic ‘friends’ stay over. Germany sighed, thinking of how laughter and alcohol-filled this evening was going to be. 

_ Hmm,  _ he thought for a moment,  _ maybe Gilbert vill know vhat to do. Yes, zhat’s it! I’ll talk to Gilbert and he can help me with my... _ little, _ liebe (love)...ah! I mean, uh, problem. My little...Italy.”  _ Germany smiled in spite of himself on his play on words. Calling his situation with Italy little was amusing, just because he, Germany was so tall and big; while Italy was adorably petite and small. Wiping the smile off his face with a frown, Germany marched downstairs. 

“Oh! Bonjour Ludvig! So nice of you to join us. Cheri (Darling) Italy has made us dinner!”

Italy blushed, “Oh, grazie Francis.”

     Germany stiffened. What was this overprotective, resentful feeling directed towards France? Only he should make Italy blush like that. And France most certainly shouldn’t call Italy ‘Darling’. It was inappropriate. 

“Si, this is magnifico! Oh, and hola Senor Alemania (Mr. Germany)!”

“Wow! You-a  mean it-a  Spain?” he squealed. 

“Si,” the older nation responded, chuckling at the other brunette's modest blush.

      Germany felt an instinctive urge to get this in hand before it was out of control.

He cleared his throat, “I’m sure this dinner is wunderbar (wonderful), ” he chipped in nervously.

     Everyone stopped. Even Francis ceased his idle chatter, as Antonio choked and spit his wine back into his glass. Germany looked stricken. Was he that bad? It was Feli, who broke the uncomfortable silence.

“Oh Germany, cosi dolce (so sweet)! Here-a you-a can sit-a next to-a me.” 

     Blushing profusely, the blue-eyed man took the proffered chair.  Meanwhile, Gilbert, Antonio, and Francis exchange a knowing look, then an evil grin. 

“ Je pense que l'Allemagne a un penchant pour la petite Italie (I think Germany has a fondness for little Italy,)” Francis remarked. 

“ Je le pense aussi (I think so too,) answered Spain, chuckling.

“Petit frère en amour enfin,  incroyable!  (Little brother in love at last? Unbelievable!)” Gilbert squawked, “Kesesesese Sesesesese~” he laughed loudly. 

     Germany looked on the by-play in growing discomfort.

“ _ Vhat are zhey laughing at? Vhat are zhey discussing?” _

     The rest of dinner was mostly uneventful, apart from the odd occasion when Germany would do something clumsy or awkward and feel foolish. Like when he went to grab his silverware and accidentally brushed his hand over Feli’s. At these moments, Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio could hardly contain their laughter.


End file.
